


Like The Difference Between Powdered Chocolate Milk Drink To Actual Cacao Tablets And Full Cream Milk

by ruff_ethereal



Series: Awfully Awkward Artist, Flirty Nude Model [1]
Category: Descendants (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Art School, Art Student!Mal, F/F, Model!Evie, Nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 00:05:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4897495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruff_ethereal/pseuds/ruff_ethereal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal finds herself falling stupidly hard for the new nude model in her life drawing class.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like The Difference Between Powdered Chocolate Milk Drink To Actual Cacao Tablets And Full Cream Milk

**Author's Note:**

> An edited version of this: http://ruffsdenofdepravity.tumblr.com/post/130055655805/oh-god
> 
> Written for eviewolf on tumblr.

This wasn’t the first naked woman Mal had ever seen. This wasn’t the first _attractive_ naked woman Mal had ever seen. But, the key difference between those two categories of naked women was that, A) they were usually _much_ older than her, B) they were not attractive to her for one reason or the other, or C) they were safely behind a computer screen where there was absolutely no way they could interact with Mal or even be aware of her existence.

(Well, there _were_ live cam shows, but Mal was always paranoid she’d say something horribly stupid that would ruin the mood and get her banned from all the free websites and even if she wasn’t that big a fan, being blacklisted from a free porn network was just something she could not and would not want to live with.)

But anyway, right now she was not in the safety of her room with the protection of a mother who could care less about what her daughter got into, so long as she was quiet, and presumably studying hard to become a lawyer or some other prestigious professional career that required a license and examinations, and NOT going on shady internet websites watching lesbian porn and going on tumblr to do the same thing, only being much more vocal, open, and frankly speaking, a little _too_ obsessed about it.

Right now, she was in her life drawing class. Where she was supposed to make realistic drawings of people, oftentimes naked, have only a purely aesthetic and artistic appreciation for their forms, and be more concerned about how accurate she was getting their proportions and details down than anything else.

Where she was most _definitely_ not supposed to be _seriously_ turned on, blushing bright red, and suffering the wrath of a mighty, raging, and very, very, _very_ insistent ladyboner that _demanded_ to be appeased _right now_ because that’s what Mal had done every other time, _damn it,_ that’s what was going to happen now!

“Class,” Mr. Reckitt said, “this is Evie, and she’s going to be our model today. No jokes or flirting with her like every other model we’ve had, alright? Other than the fact that it’s just _disrespectful,_ it’s her _very first time_ modeling nude, so be nice!”

“Evie...” Mal mumbled. Oh _god._ Just saying her name was turning her on _even more_ because it was so fitting and _perfect._

Evie smiled bashfully, though from so many years watching internet porn both amateur and professionally produced, she knew that she was actually feeling _quite_ the opposite. “Hi guys--and gals.” She winked at one of the females in the class. Fortunately not Mal.

The class launched into your usual “Hi”, “Hey”, and “Hello” greetings of varying levels of enthusiasm, except for Mal, who was sitting frozen by her easel, frantically dissecting _what the fuck was that that just happened_. Was that a playful reference to the old joke that people assumed lots of guys attended life drawing classes to see live nudity, even if most of them were perfectly content with digital tits? Was it a joke to the girls that they were seeking the same thing? _Was she flirting with them and_ _ **oh my god was she a lesbian too?**_

All these thoughts had to be put on hold as Evie disrobed, perched herself on the stage, and took on a bashful, shy pose, legs pulled up and hiding what lay between her legs, but her upper body angled, bared, and in full display towards one of the class--

\--And Mal quickly realized it was her.

The hot life drawing model was showing off her boobs to her. Probably completely coincidental but _holy shit._ Then, for the briefest moment, she winked.

Not at the openly, proudly asexual woman beside Mal. Nor the other female student whose easel was positioned at too awkward an angle for that wink to be hers.

_At **Mal.**_

The hot life drawing model was _purposefully_ showing off her boobs to her and _she had winked at her, too._

Mal’s cheeks burned even brighter red. ‘ _Oh god. Oh god. Oh Jesus fucking tap-dancing Christ and the names of every other religious deity or figure out there who won’t strike me dead on the spot for taking them in vain_!’ along with _every_ single bit of colorful language Mal had learned through the magic of noise-canceling headphones, her own room, and a light indicator for the first of three locks on her bedroom door.

‘ _WHAT DO?!’_ She found her brain screaming at itself, and Mal honestly didn’t know.

‘ _DRAW!’_ One part of it yelled, and Mal decided to do just that--the Logical part of her brain wiped its forehead down with a towel and said that yes, we were in Life Drawing class, therefore we must draw life!

... In this case, the hot model who was naked in front of her and had just flirted with her, however barely.

Mal dropped her pencil. Unconscious reflex, a scheming part of her brain, or was she better at this flirting game than she thought she was? She’d never know as she mumbled a lame excuse and made to grab her pencil.

Evie, like any professional model for a live art class, did not move. Aside from her breathing and blinking, she held the pose perfectly, including her eyes. And though that was well and good for her it most _definitely_ wasn’t for Mal because technically she could ogle her all she wanted from down here and never have her look back at her and “catch” her.

And _wow,_ what a view. Mal had seen plenty of fine bodies, plenty of luxurious heads of hair, and even more fantastic pairs of breasts, but she’d never seen all three of them at once AND live and in-person.

Smooth, supple, and soft skin in a lovely, pale shade of chocolate brown.

Warm, loving eyes in that same alluring colour.

Amazing locks of blue curling and flowing down her perfectly shaped face and the edges settling just to the side of each perfectly shaped breast.

And she could stare at her for the next hour without ever getting caught.

(It didn’t escape her that it was plainly obvious to pretty much _everyone_ that she was staring. “It doesn’t count unless she looks at us,” some part of Mal’s brain offered, and they all happily agreed to it before turning their full attention back to Evie.)

Mal finally realized her knees were hurting. ‘ _Okay, ow, yeah, this is a bad position to ogle someone from, how did old fashioned perverts manage?’_ She grabbed her pencil and went back up to her chair, and noticed her canvas was still blank.

‘ _Ah. Right. Too busy ogling the model, instead of, you know, actually drawing her like I’m was supposed to.’_ Mal thought to herself. ‘ _No matter! I can draw her! I probably don’t even need to have her in front of me and I’m still going to be able to draw her perfectly from memory alone!’_

Except she couldn’t. Her drawing hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Suddenly she couldn’t make a decent circle or a straight line or a smooth curve to save her life. And like Mr. Reckitt had said in the beginning of the class: “You gotta master the basics, because that’s what everything stands on, and if you don’t have the basics down pat, everything else is just going to come tumbling down.”

Which was probably why by the end of the hour Mal just had a messy, amateurish, and depressing collection of scribbles and vague shapes that you _assumed_ was supposed to be a human being, but something had gone horribly, _terribly_ wrong in the process and the end-product was just _sad._

“Alright, everyone!” Mr. Reckitt said as he clapped his massive ham hands, causing little booms to rock the studio. “Pencils, brushes, charcoal, or whatever medium you used down, let’s see your work!”

Mal was the first to turn her work around, if only to save herself the humiliation of Mr. Reckitt personally asking her to show her work, and therefore, everyone’s attention would be on her and her humiliation would be even worse than it already was.

Mr. Reckitt made it a point to be very constructive and positive with his work, reserving all of his negative comments to private feedback through discreet channels and one-to-one talks with his students. He could not, however, change the way his expressions and body language would change when he saw a particularly good work, or more often, a particularly _bad_ work.

Like that of Mal’s, for example.

The worst part was, Evie hadn’t gone off the stage and to the break room--she had merely put her robe back on, and admired the various interpretations the students have done of her while she sipped a bottle of water Mr. Reckitt had given her. And she was looking at every single one--Mal knew because she looking at her look at the paintings--and she knew had specifically skipped hers because she was also looking specifically at her eyes _\--goddamn it_ how could someone have such _beautiful_ eyes--and then she finally noticed said eyes were looking back at her and her brain sort of blanked out from a sudden, dramatic loss of blood.

Evie stepped off the stage, and strode over to Mal’s spot. She walked with even more grace than she thought she would have, practically gliding over the floors, her bare feet barely making a sound

Mal debated tearing her work up, but she knew it was a moot point since Evie had already seen it, and would only serve to hammer in the point that she had completely and absolutely _failed_ to draw her like she was supposed to.

Evie looked at Mal’s “drawing” one more time and giggled. ’ _Good god, she still sounds adorable and hot even when she’s tearing my heart and ego to itty bitty pieces.’_ Mal thought.

“It’s... different.” Evie said in a raspy, soothing voice that Mal just wanted to hear saying some _very_ different words right into her ear. “Going for an abstract sort of look?” She smiled playfully.

“Well, I was trying to capture your incredible beauty as best as I could, but it turns out these hands just aren’t cut out for it!” Mal held up her hands. She died inside as she realized just _what_ her knee-jerk snark instinct had produced and that her fingers were _still_ shaking.

Evie smiled. Bigger and brighter than usual. “You just need practice, is all. You know, I work contract; you could hire me and then you can try to ‘capture’ my ‘incredible beauty’ again.”

The thought of having Evie all to herself in a private art studio, her bedroom, or equally isolated and secure space was VERY tempting and enticing indeed, but, “Sorry, broke fine arts student whose only here because her mother is paying for everything but my tuition.”

Evie kept on smiling. “I’m sure we can work something out--I don’t work exclusively for cash.” She winked and held out one perfect hand. “May I?”

Mal carefully handed over her pencil like it was a holy artefact sacred to millions.

With considerably much less care and much more playful flair, Evie scribbled a series of numbers into the top corner of the terrible drawing of herself--a phone number.

“Wednesdays are your best bet,” Evie said as she casually handed the pencil back. “I’m free _all day long_...~” She purred.

Mal would have probably had something stupid to say to that if her body hadn’t decided that yeah, now would be a good time for her to turn to jello, lose her sense of balance, and consequently go tipping off her chair to the floor.

Hitting the ground hurt like hell, but on the bright side, Evie parted her legs just so and gave Mal a teasing, partially obscured view of what she had been hiding from the rest of the class earlier.

“Call me.” Evie said, before she sauntered right on off and out of Mal’s life...

... Till Wednesday, that is.


End file.
